


Heal My Wounded Heart

by Xxlowkey_obsessedxX



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anniversary of the Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Cora Hale Dies, Derek Has Nightmares, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pack Meetings, Panic Attacks, Stiles is a Good Boyfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26769574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xxlowkey_obsessedxX/pseuds/Xxlowkey_obsessedxX
Summary: It's the anniversary of the Hale Fire which burned down his house and killed his family and relatives. Derek can't deal, left alone, he's trapped in his own thoughts and guilt.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 15
Collections: Sterek Ship (haljoy26)





	Heal My Wounded Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my guilty pleasure, Derek doesn't deserve to suffer!
> 
> Anyways, enjoyyy :)

Derek snapped back into consciousness, from dreams filled with smoke and haze, screams and frantic shouts piecing his mind and plaguing his heart. Sweat beading on his face as his heart hammering in his chest, he looked around, calming at the realisation that he was home. _Safe_.

Taking in deep almost gasp-like breaths, he managed to calm himself into a semblance of normality, though he felt so fragile, like a single ill placed intent could shatter him complete.

It was especially bad today, he just had a feeling. He felt vulnerable. If wasn't often times where he felt like this, but one those bad days, he couldn't do much more than curl up on the couch and try not to get sucked into the memories that tried to suffocate him.

"Up..." Derek murmured to himself, pushing himself upright and swung his legs off the side of the bed. As delicate as he felt, there was still a tension coiled within him, waiting to snap which made him anxious. The Were couldn't sit still, instead he would rather busy himself in work and house chores than wait for the bad memories to catch him.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he bit his lower lip and made his way steadily to the bathroom. Cleaning up, he felt slightly more awake and alert as he sighed heavily and made to exit the bathroom.

Walking out into the living room, he abruptly stopped in front of his calendar. On it, a bright red circle was drawn, indicating the pack meeting that was going to be held this afternoon. However, that wasn't the main reason that he had stopped.

The date on the calendar glared at him, accusingly as if saying _how could you forget about us?_. With a shocked look on his face, Derek realised it was the anniversary of the fire that had burnt down his home and killed his whole family and he had all but _forgotten_.

He felt tendrils seep into the cracks of his façade growing bigger under his skin, threatening to crack and shatter at any moment, leaving behind nothing but a scared boy. Exhaling shakily, he stepping into the kitchen to make himself a coffee, performing the movements purely through muscle memory at this point.

As the coffee was made, he carried the cup to the dining table, seating himself on the chair and took a sip. The liquid scalded his tongue and throat but he could not bring himself to care.

Here, alone in his apartment, the emptiness stuck out to him more than every before. Wolves were pack animals yet all his family were gone and he was alone in this world. _Mum, dad, Laura and Cora,_ he remembered, _his grandparent, cousins and relatives_. All were gone because of his recklessness, his mistakes, his stubbornness and naivety.

Something wet fell onto his hand, and another, and another. Derek looked down, slightly shocked to see glistening drops of tears, before reaching up with shaking hands to touch the trail of tears on his face. He took his hand away and stared at his fingertips in something akin to shock.

That can't be right, he's crying? No, he's not allowed to cry. That was what he had told himself over the years. He deserved to suffer for his mistakes. Crying? Crying was nothing but begging for forgiveness and he doesn't deserve to be forgiven, after all no one could tell him that the fire wasn't his fault.

Choking on the feeling of sobs trying to escape, he clenched his jaw, digging his elongated nails into the palm of his hands and staring blanking as rivets of blood ran down. He wasn't even sure when he had wolfed out but he couldn't control the shift enough for him to return back to his human form. Pain was good, he told himself, it was better than the numbness threatening to take over or the dam of sadness threatening to tip.

He didn't know how long he spend like this, it could have been seconds, minutes or even hours. Derek only eased back into awareness, alone in the darkened room, shivering and numb all over, to a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. Derek winced slightly standing up, retracting his nails and watched as the small crescent shaped dents stitched itself together.

Walking over to the kitchen to tip his coffee away, he then made his way back into his bedroom, grabbing the softest pair of sweats he owned and a loose fitting shirt before heading to the bathroom.

His old shirt was dotted with drops of blood from his palms, the nails preventing the wound from closing. Stripping off his shirt and then his pants, he chucked then into the laundry basket to clean later before stepping under the warm spray.

Head hung, he relaxed into the water cascading down his shoulders and let himself rest of a minute. Then he gathered soap and began to furiously scrub at the dries crusted blood on his palms. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the scent of lavender and another floral scent in the soap that he could not recognise, through it soothed him immensely.

Lathering his hair, he felt significantly more put together than before, not so dangerously close to tipping over the edge. Stepping out of the shower, he slipped into his softest pair of sweatpants and an old worn shirt, and couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh of pleasure.

He gave up all pretence of working, rather walking over to his couch and drew his knees in. Another year, the anniversary of the fire where Kate, his first love had managed to destroy everything he cared about. He had loved her, and her? She had betrayed him. Derek should have known, should have listened to the warnings that his mother gave his, the sign that Kate gave should've warned him, the sickly syrupy sweetness of her voice as she held him and whispered lies after lies in his ears.

His vision blurred as he struggled to breath. It was all his fault. But right now? He felt like collapsing under the weight on his shoulders. He was so _tired_. Every year on the anniversary of the fire, it was like another part of him was dying, but right now, he just felt lethargic, head heavy as the TV playing in the distance lulled him to sleep.

***

A shrill noise startled Derek awake as the Were blinked awake, head pounding as he winced in pain, looking around he could detect no signs of life around him. Another ring rang across the room and Derek rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the sofa to reach his phone.

Upon picking up, he could hear the loud, cheerful voice of no other but Stiles sounding out.

"Hey man, how ya going. Dude, I'm so pumped for the pack meeting this afternoon, like I have so many activities planned that we can try out, especially this one pack bonding activity which I know Erica's gonna LOVE!" Stiles continued to talk into the phone.

Derek barely held back a whimper of pain as the sudden loudness of Stile's voice contrasted with the silent apartment, certainly not doing any favours to the pounding headache in his head right now.

Oh right, there was going to be a pack meeting today, he had completely forgotten about that, the mention of a pack brought another flash of sadness coursing through him as he remembered his deceased family and a noise resembling a sob bubbled out before he could stop it.

"And then i was thinking we could..." Stiles voice trailed off a few seconds later. "Wait dude, are you alright? That sounded suspiciously like a sob and there absolutely no way you would crying unless." Stiles suddenly stopped talking before screaming almost triple the volume he was just talking at "Oh My God, did someone DIE??! Is the WORLD ENDING?? Shitshitshit, THE WORLDS ENDING!!"

Derek winced again at the loud volume before whispering into the phone when the scream died down.

"It's f-" Shoot, the words caught in his throat and he tried again, whispering "It's fine."

"Derek?" An uncertain voice questioned back. "Are you actually sure everything's ok over there?"

"Y-yeh, the house is fine."

"The house?" Stiles repeated in a incredulous voice, "I'm not asking about the house Derek, I'm asking about you. You didn't sound very good just then, so, are you sure you're fine?"

Derek opened his mouth to reply that he was fine and stopped...it would be so obvious a lie that even Stiles would be able to tell. He didn't feel fine at all, everything in the apartment was too loud yet too quiet and he could feel the tension build under his skin, threatening to burst at any moment.

"Me? I'm-... I could be better..." He whispered out, feeling drained and leaned back against the hand rest of the sofa and closed his eyes. He could feel distance shuffling noises before a whisper echoed through the phone.

"Sit tight , I'm coming over alright? Let me just..." Stiles murmured indistinctively over the phone as he quickly packed his bag and left a note for his dad, telling him that he left earlier for the pack meeting and will be back later.

"Hey Sourwolf" Stiles smiled as he entered the house roughly 30 minutes later with his own key. To his surprise, the house was perfectly quiet, with all the blinds drawn tightly shut. Walking into the living room, he looked in amusement at the figure slouched on the couch, but quickly frowned when he realised the other was whimpering and gasping in his sleep.

Hurrying over, he could see the other had a sheen of sweat on his brows and were muttering the names Laura and Cora over and over again.

"Derek, hey, hey Derek wake up." The teen shook the other awake, who was now wide eyed and desperately sucking in deep breaths.

"Nightmare?" Stiles asked, gaining a slight nod of the head in response. "Do you want to talk about it?" A shake of the head. No. "Alright then, i'll turn the TV on and we can just watch whatever on until you calm down and we can continue from there, sound good?"

Derek nodded, the scene from his nightmare of the fires repeated in his head. It wasn't until he felt gentle fingers brushing his hair that he gradually came back reality and realised that Stiles was talking and asking him a question.

"Hey Der bear, do you want me to call off the meeting today, no one will mind, I'm sure."

"No," Derek rasped out, "Its alright, they all been looking forward to it and you'll need a break."

"But-" Stiles protested, "We can reallocate the meeting some other time, it's not like it was important anyways."

"How often is it that everyone has a free day and can come over?" Derek questioned Stiles as he felt the other boy giving in.

"Urgh fine, you're so stubborn. Ok, I wont call it off then." Stiles groaned in mock annoyance. Derek realised that Stile's hand was still playing with his hair, fingers twisting themselves in his dark strands. And oddly enough, even though it felt more strangely intimate that he was used to, he didn't care and leaned into Stile's touch as they waited for the pack to arrive. Together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
